Trading
by rann
Summary: Marguerite and Veronica take a simple trek to trade with a group of villagers. Nothing could be easier. What could possibly go wrong?


**Disclaimer:**  The characters from "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World" are owned by Telescene, NewLine Television, The Over the Hill Gang, Coote/Hayes, etc.  No profit is being made from this story.  No infringement upon copyrighted material is intended.

**Setting: **Right before The Guardian****

**Spoilers:   **Absolute Power, Resurrection, Prophecy, Amazons, Tourist Season, The Source, Voodoo Queen, The Guardian 

**Description:  **Marguerite and Veronica take a simple trek to trade with a group of villagers.  Nothing could be easier.

**Thanks:** To Ariadne and CMS for their usual terrific job as beta readers. And for convincing me to post this even though it meant a lot of last minute work.  My thanks to CMS for making me write out my thoughts on the feudal system and to Ariadne for telling me at the last minute that penicillin wasn't discovered when the explorers went to the plateau, so I had to scramble to get Challenger to invent it.  Malone was wrong; you can schedule science!

****

Trading  
by rann

"Where the hell are they?"  The question was rhetorical as the tall hunter methodically checked his Webleys.  The first rays of the dawn light caught the gleaming metal.  His plans were already made as he prepared to track down his missing companions.

"Now, Roxton, those women are quite capable.  I'm sure they're fine."

"I don't know, Professor.  They were suppose to be back last night."  Malone swallowed the coffee that was necessary to supplement the sleep he missed.  Roxton had them both up early.  The reporter wavered between confidence in Veronica's abilities and Roxton's instincts.  His sleep was interrupted last night as he heard the hunter moving around, pacing, and gathering supplies.

"I think you're not giving them enough credit."  Challenger was anxious to head down to his lab and continue his work this morning.  He knew that wouldn't be possible until the other men saw reason.  "After all they're the ones who came after us when we were in the Amazon village."

Malone winced as he recalled the circumstances when Veronica tracked him down.  "I prefer not to remember that."

"Yes, they came after us, when we didn't return on time.  Let's return the favor.  Ready?"  Roxton picked up his hat and made for the elevator

***

_(An hour earlier)_

She woke up slowly. In the dim moonlight the contours of her room seemed unfamiliar and vaguely threatening. What had roused her from her sleep? She sat up in her bed, a feeling of dread nagging at her. She looked around, but didn't see anything suspicious. She couldn't hear any noises that were cause for concern. What was it? And then she knew.

She blinked, rubbed her eyes and let the images fade.  This wasn't the treehouse, her refuge.  Her hand moved through the tangle of blonde hair.  Forcing her eyes to focus in the pale light, she could make out the rough-hewn stone that made up the narrow room.  Lichen-covered crevices of the prison provided a luminescent light.  She strained to make out the details.

***

Caught between sleep and wakefulness, she was aware of the comfort, the warmth, her back nestled against his chest, the weight of his arm draped across her waist, holding her firmly, protectively against him.  The temptation was to snuggle in, accept the refuge offered by his arms.  She caught herself murmuring his name, _"John."_  An odd feeling, a combination of safety and danger filled her.  Her mind slipped back to being tied to an altar, a knife held by a Norse warrior woman.  Then John was there, back from the dead to save her; again.  

But then he was slipping in under her guard with her need to absolve him from his supposed failure as the perfect hero, the ultimate man of honor.  There it was.  Danger.  Every time he fell off that dammed pedestal she weakened towards him a little more.  That weakness endangered her reputation as a self-centered mercenary.  Kaysan recognized the weakness using Roxton as leverage against her when the gypsy robbed them.

She started to move away, the physical danger seemed less threatening than the emotional one.  Awareness shot through her.  The warmth of a man's chest resolved itself into a cold, damp stone wall.  She forced herself to sit up in the darkness.  A few feet away her eyes made out the blonde hair of her companion.

"Veronica."  Instinct kept the dark-haired linguist's voice low.

"Are you okay?"  The blonde jungle beauty matched her companion's tone.

"As well as can be expected.  What happened?"

***  


_(Three days ago)_

"Those palm fronds just aren't doing the job."  Challenger surveyed the windmill with decided displeasure.

"Dried vegetation isn't going to last forever, Challenger."  Roxton pointed out reasonably.

"Yes, I know that.  But I had at least hoped we might get more than a few weeks at a time."

"Maybe if you had some canvas."  Malone offered as he jotted down his latest reflections.

"Canvas, yes, that would be ideal."  Challenger could picture the improvement in his mind's eye.

"But where can we find canvas?"  Roxton asked.  "I don't believe the Zanga have anything like that."

"I've heard of a tribe that does."  Veronica looked up from reading over the reporter's shoulder.  "Well, it's not really canvas, but close enough for what you want."

"How far away are they?"  Marguerite capped a canteen and put it back into the shade.

"About a day's travel."  Veronica's attention was divided between Malone's journal and the conversation.

"Lovely."  The prospect of a two-day trip through the jungle was not a pleasure the dark-haired Englishwoman wanted to contemplate.

"We can leave in the morning."  Roxton began to settle their plans.

"We could, but maybe our time might be better spent, if we could get the new frames built that we'll need for the vanes."  Challenger saw the argument in Roxton's eyes and quickly continued.  "The sooner we can get the electric fence back in operation, the sooner we'll discourage the raptors from coming around."

"I need to go on the trading trip, since I know of the tribe and where they're suppose to be.  Unfortunately, I don't know their language."

"That means I get to go on this little holiday as well."  Marguerite was of two minds as to which activity she was least in favor of.

"That leaves Roxton and I to start getting the logs for the new frames."  Malone concluded.

"Then you'll go with Veronica and Marguerite, Challenger."  Roxton suggested in what he tried to make an off-hand manner.

"Oh, no.  I have to prepare the lacing we'll use for the vanes.  Now let's go back so we can discuss quantities."  Challenger started shepherding Marguerite and Veronica back towards the treehouse.

"I don't like this."  Roxton's voice was gruff as he made his displeasure known to the reporter.

"Veronica knows what she's doing.  It's my turn for dinner tonight, I'd better start the cooking."  Malone turned to follow the others.

Roxton stood watching as his companions walked away.  His eyes focused on the slender khaki-covered form of his dark-haired housemate.  He wasn't happy about this idea at all.

***

That night they mapped out the route based on the stories that Veronica had heard about the tribe.

"You'll follow the river?"

"Yes, Roxton."  Veronica was losing patience with the cross-questioning.

"You shouldn't run into any Vantu.  They're in the opposite direction."  Challenger confidently pointed out.

"And of course they've never left their territory."  Roxton's sarcasm was a measure of his worry.

"Please, don't make this sound any more attractive than it already is."  Marguerite's acid comment did little to lighten the English nobleman's mood.  Her attention was focused on sorting through a variety of pouches they'd be taking.

"We'll need to allow extra time for the return trip.  The weight of the cloth is going to slow us down."

 "All the way to South America to act as a pack mule."  Marguerite voice was inaudible to the rest of her companions.   At least she thought it was.

"What was that, Marguerite?"  For the first time this evening a hint of amusement entered the hunter's face.

"Nothing, nothing at all."  The beautiful linguist continued to stow some of Challenger's medicines to be used as trade goods.

"Now be sure to explain the benefits of each of these, Marguerite."  The red-headed scientist was proud of his work.

"Of course, George, it'll be a piece of cake.  Use this for skin rashes, use that one for fever, although how you expect me to explain this penicillin, whatever that is, I'll never know."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find a way."  Challenger dismissed her concerns.

"I've never even heard of it."  The others smiled at Marguerite's exasperation.

"It's the most extraordinary thing.  I found it quite by chance – you'll never guess where."

"I'm sure you'll tell us."  Marguerite remarked dryly.

"It came from mold, the genera Penicillium to be precise."

"Mold?"  Veronica was a bit disgusted.

"Oh yes, I had this _Penicillium notatum_ fungus and I was about to throw away an experiment and upon my last check noticed that the growth of bacteria had been inhibited.  This has proven most advantageous for fighting infections.  I've already used it here several times."

Roxton grimaced at the thought of having been used as a guinea pig.  Malone gave a wry smile.

"Let's hope I can learn the word for infection."  Marguerite was resigned to their visionary's unconventional methods.

***

They made better time than Veronica had expected.  An early start had ensured that they would have enough time to complete the trading and hopefully be offered a place to stay for the night.  

A grouping of a dozen or so huts surrounded by a stockade was their destination.  No one challenged them as they entered.  Apparently the local fauna was the only thing they worried about.

The tribe seemed peaceful enough, but uneasy with their presence.  The people who approached them were fair skinned, hair in various shades of brown.  The clothing wasn't very elaborate.  Tunic and drawstring pants on the men, loose dresses or tunics and skirts on the women that ended mid thigh.  Sandals seem to constitute most of the footwear.  The two women found themselves not unexpectedly the center of attention as they entered the circle of huts.  Marguerite listened carefully to the comments around them.  As she listened she began to make out more of the words.

Marguerite's clothes, being so different to the villagers, excited quite a bit of interest.  With growing exasperation the linguist repeatedly removed a hand that pulled at the sleeve of her blouse or reached for her hat.

Children pointed at them excitedly.

"I think you're a celebrity, Veronica."  Marguerite could make out the words "It's really her" as they passed."

"Me?"

"Veronica!  Veronica!"  Her name was on the lips of the people of the tiny village.

"Definitely."  

The chief of the village approached and waved the surrounding crowd to silence.  His bearing and manner spoke of his position rather than any other outward sign.  He was moderately tall, his hair a light brown, he was dressed as the other men of the village.  Pleasant looking in both appearance and manner.  He spoke quietly to a young man who turned and ran off.  He held his hand out, palm forward, and the two women obliged him by stopping.  "What brings you to our village?"  He spoke slowly, with sweeping motions of his hands, his dark eyes watching them carefully, not really expecting to be understood.  His words were incomprehensible to the plateau raised young woman, but the expedition's linguist had heard enough to translate them.

"We have come to trade. I'm – " Marguerite's words were stopped as the villagers closest to them gasped in astonishment.

"You speak our language?"  The chief was obviously shaken by the dark-haired woman's knowledge.

"I speak many languages.  Yours is not that complicated."  Marguerite downplayed her abilities.

"Who are you?"  The chief was definitely not at ease.

"I'm Marguerite, and this is Veronica."

"Truly you are Veronica?"  Awe filled the chief's voice.

"Your adoring public awaits you, Veronica."  Marguerite was amused.

Veronica smiled and offered her hand to the chief who touched it gingerly.  "How do I say happy to meet you?"

As Marguerite told her and she repeated it, the chief beamed.

"It is Veronica, she has come to us!"  The chief raised their joined hands high, turning to the crowd.  "We will have a feast in your honor.  My name is Nateen.  Come to my home and rest."

The chief's hut was not very big, but cushions on the ground made it more comfortable.  The shade of the trees and the wide windows kept it cool.

The women settled on the cushions, a small boy and girl approached with cups for them and the chief.  Veronica smiled her thanks and Marguerite said the appropriate words.

"What is this?"  Marguerite kept a smile on her face, but wasn't about to swallow anything unfamiliar.  

"Juice of the guava fruit."  The chief took a hearty swallow.

After telling Veronica the chief's words, she said. "When in Rome…"  Both women took a deep swallow.  Veronica started coughing.  Marguerite took a deep breath and managed to keep her composure.  "It has a bit of kick to it."  Her voice was a bit hoarser than normal.

"One of our finest pressings."

"Maybe we should trade for this.  We could put it out for the raptors and we wouldn't need the electric fence."  Marguerite's aside to Veronica had the jungle girl smiling.

"Why don't we get down to business?"   Veronica's voice was also hoarse from her coughing.

"Good idea, before he's too inebriated to remember what he says."  Marguerite turned to the chief.  "We thank you for your hospitality, but we have come for another purpose."

The chief seemed uneasy, as Marguerite slid her pack off her back.  She reached in for one of the pouches.  "We have brought medicines.  We wish to trade these for cloth."  At the words trade the chief relaxed slightly.

"What do these 'medicines' do?"  The chief stumbled over the unfamiliar word.

"This one will help heal a rash on the skin."  Marguerite proceeded to explain the various properties, trying to be sure that the chief understood that the results took time. 

"And this last?"

"It is called penicillin.  It can help with infections."

"What is 'infection'?"

Marguerite stumbled over the explanation, the villagers' language simply didn't have all the words she needed, but she made the meaning clear enough.  

The chief's eyes widened, "Come, you must show me!"  He sprung up and led the women to a neighboring hut.  In the dim light they could distinguish a boy of ten or eleven lying on a mat.  A woman wiping his brow knelt at his side.  

"Kiera, I have brought help."  The young dark haired woman looked at Marguerite and Veronica, disbelief warring with hope.

"What's the matter with the boy?"  Marguerite wasn't sure that they hadn't bit off more than they could chew.

"My son ran afoul of one of the jungle beasts, a raptor.  Our hunters killed it, but not before it slashed his arm."  The chief pulled back the covering to reveal the infected wound.  

The sight caused both women to pause momentarily and try to settle their stomachs.  They looked at each other.  There was no guarantee that Challenger's penicillin could save him.  They also knew they had no option but to try.

"We'll need hot water and clean cloths.  Bring a cup and my pack from your hut."  Marguerite gave the instructions as Veronica turned to their new patient.

"Marguerite, he needs stitches."  Veronica studied the wound as she cleaned it.  The dark-haired woman nodded and found needle and thread in her pack, ready to take over after the jungle girl finished cleaning the wound.

The boy was awake and whimpering.  Their ministrations were painful.  He kept trying to edge away.  As Marguerite took his arm, his other hand came out and grasped the locket that had swung out as she leaned forward.  The woman stopped and loosened his hand. 

"My name is Marguerite."  The soft, soothing voice caught the boy's attention.  "If I give you this to hold, will you let me sew your arm?  It will hurt a bit.  So you just grip this when I'm working.  If you help me, it will be over sooner."  The gentle understanding and the honesty in not trying to hide the upcoming pain gave the boy courage.

The boy nodded, tears in his eyes that he felt he was too old to shed.  The fever lowered his ability to keep them at bay.

Cleaning the wound and sewing it was an unpleasant task for both the women and the boy.  Eventually with the first dose of penicillin administered and a cleanly bandaged wound, the boy fell asleep, Marguerite's locket firmly in his grasp.

***

"Sire, we have a messenger from Nateen's village."  A burly guard with an armour chestplate and a metal helmet entered great hall in the stone building.

A tall, thin man wearing silks kept his attention on the table covered with parchments.  He stood studying the information laid out in front of him.  After a moment he spoke.  "What is it about?"

"They have visitors."

The silk clad man's eyes gleamed.  "Is that so?"  He glanced toward the narrow windows of the keep.  The last rays of the setting sun threw red streaks across the horizon.  "Make the arrangements.  We go in the morning." 

***

They took turns with Kiera, the boy's mother, wiping him down with cool water, to try and help break the fever.  In the middle of the night they gave him another dose of the penicillin.  

The chief came in and watched with troubled eyes as the women tended to his son.   During the course of the night as he further questioned Marguerite she explained their errand.  At one point several native men entered carrying bales of cloth.

"I honor you for the effort you have given to saving my son.  I can see that you are using all of your magic."

"It's not magic.  We are just using medicine that our friend, Challenger, has prepared."  Marguerite ordinarily wouldn't have minded bumping their status up if it got them preferential treatment, but in this case, she had a nasty suspicion that a claim to magical powers might be more trouble than it was worth.

"This magic you call 'science'; it can be borrowed?" 

Marguerite didn't like where this conversation was headed at all.  Veronica looked at her, concerned.  She'd picked the words science and medicine out of the exchange between the two.  The dark-haired woman's frown confirmed the blonde woman's unease.  Marguerite filled Veronica in on the conversation and then turned back to the chief.  "Once the medicine is created, it can be used by anyone who knows how."

"Like a shaman can make a potion."

"Well, not quite.  Your shaman has his own power.  What Challenger has is knowledge."

"Your friend, this Challenger, must trust you to share his knowledge with you.  Does he do so often?"

"At the drop of a hat."  Marguerite remarked ruefully remembering some of the scientist's interminable lectures. 

"What do you have to do in return for this knowledge?"

With a smile Marguerite translated the question for Veronica.  They looked at each other then both replied, "Listen!"  And laughed.

The chief of the tribe smiled as Marguerite repeated their reply in his tongue.

Morning came slowly, but with it came an improvement in the boy's condition.  The fever seemed to be breaking.  

Kiera smiled at the two strangers as her husband entered the hut.  "Nateen, they have done it.  They have cured him."

Marguerite translated the words for Veronica.

"We haven't cured him yet.  It will take time to heal.  But the medicine will help keep the infection away.  You have to keep the wound clean and have him rest."

As Marguerite translated Veronica's words, Kiera smiled again.

"Making him rest might be the hardest thing of all."  Nateen smiled at Kiera's words, but his eyes were troubled.

"Is there a problem, Excellency?"  Marguerite was good at picking up the nuances.  Veronica hearing the tone in Marguerite's voice, focused on them.

"You must leave at once.  Do not delay."  He motioned Kiera out, who smiled her thanks and left.

"What's the problem, Marguerite?"

"It seems like the chief wants us gone, now."

"What did you say to him?"  Veronica demanded angrily.  

"Nothing."  Marguerite became defensive.  She turned to the chief.  "Have we done something wrong?  Is there a problem?"

"For your safety, you must go now."  Nateen refused to say more and followed his wife out the door of the hut.

"I guess we're not staying for coffee."  Marguerite said to Veronica as she turned to get her pack.

Loud voices outside the hut caused the two women to wheel around, facing the hut's entrance.

"Marguerite?"  Veronica's voice betrayed her uncertainty.

The dark-haired linguist listened.  "They're looking for us."

The blonde jungle girl looked around.  She motioned towards the window at the back.  The boy on the pallet cried out at Marguerite's move to leave. 

"Hush, it's okay. You'll be a little sore, but you're going to get better."  Marguerite dropped down beside the boy, brushing his hair back from his forehead.  "Drink a little water.  Your mother will be back soon."

"Marguerite!"  Veronica hissed at the woman, grabbing her arm.  "You pick the damnedest times to go soft."   Marguerite nodded and rose.  

Before they could get out the window two men in armour chestplates and helmets pushed into the hut.  Kiera fell to the floor in front of them. Apparently she tried to delay their entrance.  Their swords were pointed at the two women.  Marguerite fumbled for her pistol and found a sword point at her neck, pricking her.  She moved her hand away from her gun with care, making sure they noticed her cooperation.  Veronica's hand edged toward her knife but found the other sword at her neck.

"Maybe we ought to go with them."  Marguerite suggested speaking carefully against the sharp sword point.

"You think?"  Veronica's sarcasm was not lost on her companion, but Marguerite would rather have that than hysterics any day of the week.

Outside the hut other men produced leather ties and bound their hands.  Another man came forward obviously their leader.  His clothes were of a finely woven linen and perhaps something equivalent to silk.  He wore no armour, but the hilt of his sword and the knife in his belt were encrusted with jewels.

"You've outdone yourself this time, Nateen.  Quite a catch!  Good thing we got them before you or your people were harmed."

"Truly there is no need to take them.  They did not try to hurt us, sire!  They only wanted to trade."

The leader faced the village chief.  "Nateen, Nateen, I've told you before, everything you need you get from me.  You have no need for outsiders."  

"Lord Tomas, please they helped us."  

Tomas' voice was kindly as he spoke to Nateen.  "I'm sure they were very helpful.  They did that to gain your trust.  Very clever to send two women.  Once they have your trust, their warriors will come.  Your only safety is with me."

"We'll go and not return."  Marguerite spoke from behind Tomas.  He turned and the look in his eyes as they slowly wandered over the women was not pleasant.  Marguerite mentally filed his interest for future use.

"Now what, Marguerite?"  Veronica didn't like the look in Tomas' eyes, either.

"If only we could believe you.  But you must be planning an attack otherwise why would you know our language."  Tomas spoke in English suddenly startling the two women.  Veronica looked to Marguerite who shrugged.  She had no idea why Tomas knew English and the villagers did not.     

"You have to let us go.  We only came to trade.  I swear it."  Veronica was a believer in forthright dealings.  "If you don't release us our friends will come after us."

"Veronica, that may not have been the best thing to mention."  Marguerite uttered surreptitiously. 

"I knew it."  Tomas turned to the people of the village.  "The fair-haired one confesses.  An invasion is planned.  I will send warriors out to protect you.  If you see them send word."

Tomas turned to lead them away.  Kiera came forward.  "Please sire, let me give them water before you take them away."  Tomas considered it briefly and nodded.  It was to his advantage to present a kindly image to the villagers.

Kiera held the water up to Veronica's mouth.  Marguerite looked down at the ground and spoke softly and deliberately.  "Tell Roxton, 'taken'." She gave Kiera the English word.  "Point him in the right direction.  He won't hurt you."  Marguerite took some water from the cup Kiera held to her lips.  Kiera nodded her understanding of Marguerite's message.

"Let us take these captives back."  Tomas motioned to his men.

***

The work on the frames went well.  Roxton and Malone were careful to spread out their cutting of the trees they needed.  No need to advertise their activities or to change the pattern of life for the game in the area.  The branches that were too small or too large for use on the windmill were set aside for firewood. 

Roxton looked at the sky overhead as he and Malone entered the clearing by the windmill.  "Looks like the weather will hold.  They should make decent time getting back."

"Hauling the canvas could slow them down."

"Let's see if we can finish up these frames and meet them part way."  Roxton stripped off his shirt in deference to the day's heat.

Malone nodded as he too doffed his shirt.  His rejection of the idea was tempered with the memory of Roxton the night before, on edge all evening. 

"You know Veronica has done any number of solo trips overnight away from the treehouse."

Roxton didn't look up from his work as he replied, "I know."

Malone didn't think it was Veronica being gone that was the cause. Roxton accepted Veronica's independence with equanimity.  Malone was sure the source of Roxton's anxiety was the slender dark-haired woman.

Roxton's thoughts were troubled as he worked on building the frames for the windmill's vanes, the sweat glistening on his arms and chest.  He kept telling himself that she'd be all right.  He no longer pretended to himself that his concern wasn't for Marguerite.  He knew he was a fool for caring.   Every time she did something he tried to focus on an ulterior motive she might have.  He had to keep some distance.  

The others didn't know how he was aware of every little nuance about her.  He even denied it to himself until he ran afoul of that voodoo witch, Danielle.  When Danielle thought she'd tamed him with her potion he was allowed out of the cage.  There, lying out in plain sight, were Danielle's so-called relics.  He didn't comprehend the emotion that drove him to risk exposure to palm the ring he'd occasionally seen on Marguerite's finger.  He did know that it gave him the courage to carry on with the charade as he watched Marguerite and Veronica kept helpless, awaiting death at his hands.

Now that ring lay in his room in the treehouse with the voodoo doll of himself that Danielle made.  He felt compelled to keep both safe, not sure of what residual magic might have tainted them.  He found out later that all of his friends were missing some personal item thanks to Danielle.  Most likely they'd been lying out there as well, but their belongings didn't strike the chord in his mind that Marguerite's ring did.  Even though he'd seen it only infrequently, a single glance had identified the piece of jewelry as Marguerite's.  He should give it back.  But he knew he wasn't going to.  It had become his talisman. 

"We should be able to finish this by lunchtime, Malone."  Roxton wiped the sweat from his face and chest on his castoff shirt as he put aside a completed frame and picked up a log to begin the next one.

Malone sent a fleeting thought towards the pond where he'd hope to get a swim in after they finished.  "After lunch, we'll try to meet them.  They'll probably welcome the help carrying the cloth anyway."

"Certainly Marguerite will."  Roxton smiled at the thought of her complaints.

***

"You know, just once I'd like to take one of these little excursions where the only things we had to worry about were raptors and scorpions."  Marguerite's tart comment reached only Veronica's ears.

Veronica gave her a sour look.

"My newest guests aren't enjoying themselves?" Tomas spoke from horseback.  Only he and two of his guards were mounted.  The other half-dozen walked with Veronica and Marguerite between them.

"How could we not enjoy ourselves?  It's such a pleasant day for a walk."  The superciliousness of the comment drew Tomas in further.  "All we need is a bit of light of conversation."

"And what would my guests wish to talk about?"

"Why do you think you have the right to come and take us?"  Veronica was not inclined to placate anyone who held her captive.

"What my friend means is – " Marguerite wanted to smooth things over.

"I know what she means." Tomas interposed smoothly.  "It's a simple exchange of favors.  The village doesn't have warriors, just hunters.  I have a force that can defend Nateen's village against marauders.  You know about them, Veronica.  You've defended yourself against a number of them."

"And in exchange for defense, Nateen's village owes you loyalty?"  Marguerite sought clarification.

"Loyalty, obedience.  One of the ways I protect them is by limiting their contact with outsiders.  It's a dangerous world out there."  The irony of Tomas' last statement didn't escape Marguerite.

"And by not letting them learn English you prevent them –" Veronica's anger was apparent.

"From getting into trouble with meddlesome outsiders."  Tomas finished for her.

"It seems an awful lot of trouble for one village, how much can they provide you?"  Marguerite may not have understood jungle survival techniques, but she'd mastered politics and power.

Tomas gave the dark haired beauty an appreciative look.  Not only was she the most striking woman he'd seen, but her grasp of the essentials of the give and take of trade and favors among the villages made her a prize worth having.  "They're not the only village that I have this arrangement with.  They need me, I accept their goods."

"What do you want with us?"  Marguerite decided to open negotiations.  If he was used to bargaining they might find a quick way out of this.

"I don't want you to be a disruption to my people.  They're quite happy the way they are.  They have no need of whatever it is you bring.  I supply all their needs."

"You're keeping them under your thumb."

"Now, Veronica, you know the plateau's a savage place."  He saw her amazement as he addressed her by name.  "Yes, I know who you are.  Rumors abound on the plateau.  You heard about my villagers.  We have heard about you.  Many tales have been told about the beautiful fair-haired girl who can face down the fearsome T-rex and brutal apemen.  Who lives on her own."  He glanced at Marguerite.  "Well, used to.  I must admit I like the company you keep now, Veronica.  Not one of your Amazon friends, I see.  Dirkon never mentioned her.  He just talked about how dangerous your friends could be."

Veronica remembered the battle with the slavers/scavengers after Challenger had been injured by some strange flash of light.  They had tried to take her.  Outnumbered, she and Malone fought them and just as it seemed they would lose, Roxton and Marguerite arrived in time to turn the tide of the battle.

"If you know how dangerous our friends are, let us go.  If we're not hurt, they won't hunt you down.  They'll be content just to have us back."  Veronica saw a chance to reason with Tomas.

"Perhaps that's true.  But they'll never know where you are.  You're the tracker, Veronica.  And as far as your friends know you might never have made it to the village."

"Very clever, Tomas.  Or should I say, sire?"  With a conciliatory note in her voice, Marguerite jumped into the conversation before Veronica could reveal Roxton's tracking skills.  _"Really, my housemates never seem to know when to keep the details to themselves."_

"More clever than you know.  I removed all signs of your presence in the village.  Just in case your friends do evade my guards, get there and decide to poke around."  Tomas waved his hand at one of his mounted guards to show Marguerite's backpack and Veronica's satchel slung over the horse.  "Since I don't allow my villagers to learn English, they won't be able to question them."

"Most thorough, sire."  Admiration was apparent in Marguerite's attitude.

"Why, Marguerite, under the circumstances you may call me Tomas."

"Circumstances?"

"Oh, yes, I think we'll going to get along just fine.  I'm most interested to hear how you learned our language."

"Just an ear for these things.  It wasn't all that complicated."  Marguerite remarked airily.  

"I can make use of you."  His assessing looks were annoying, but Marguerite knew how to play them. 

"I'm sure you can."  Marguerite's sultry voice intrigued Tomas.

"What about me?"  Veronica demanded.

"Well, I think we'll see if Dirkon still has some one interested in you.  When he came for you before you must have realized it was deliberate."

"You don't need to do that, Tomas.  We can see that you'll get whatever you want if you let us go.  It'll be easier for you in the long run.  Much simpler, more profitable."  Buying their way out of danger seemed safer than a fight to Marguerite.

Tomas just smiled.  "You understand the importance of a trade.  What could I get for these."  He held out several various colored precious stones, 

"You can get quite a bit."  Marguerite let her gaze linger on the stones and kept the seductive tone to her voice.

"I knew I could use you."  Tomas admired her again.

"Don't, Marguerite, the gems aren't worth it!"  Veronica was filled with both anger and fear.  
  


"Gems are always worth the effort."  Marguerite was condescending.  

"My friends will come.  You've been warned."  Veronica's voice was cold and even as she looked at Tomas.  Her fury at Marguerite was chilling.

***

"Damn it, we should have come across them by now."  Roxton's irritation was aggravated by worry for his two housemates.  They'd been hiking about three hours.

"Maybe they came back a different way."  Malone offered easily.  Veronica's competency in the jungle soothed Malone's worries.  After the fiasco with Ana and her Fountain of Youth, Ned was eager to stay on Veronica's good side.  Showing faith in her ability to look after herself was one way to do that.  "We could get back to the treehouse and find that they're there already."

It was a sensible suggestion, but it failed to appease Roxton's sense of unease.  Having no concrete reasons for not following it he looked further down the trail, shook his head and turned back to the reporter.  "I suppose we should check back at the treehouse."

***

At the treehouse Challenger and Malone managed to rein in Roxton's impatience, pointing out that having dinner ready for the women would be well received, treating them like truants would not.  Having a fair idea of what might become of dinner if he let the hunter take care of it with his distracted mood, once again Malone volunteered to do the cooking.

As night fell, Roxton stood watch at the balcony.  Challenger and Ned had repeatedly reassured him that the two would be fine.  They would have made camp and be there in the morning looking for breakfast.

***

Marguerite and Veronica looked around the great hall of the keep.  Their captors still kept them bound.

"We're here!  Now what is it you want?"  Marguerite's voice was the cool, even tones of an experienced negotiator. 

"I want your cooperation."  Tomas held up his hand to stop Marguerite from speaking.  "Your willing cooperation."

"You'll never have that!"  Veronica spat the words out.

"I will and there is nothing you can do to stop me."

"Now let's not be too hasty."   Marguerite strove to smooth ruffled feathers.  She mistrusted his look.  "If we talk, I'm sure we can come to some agreement."

"A drink perhaps, you must be thirsty, from your long walk."  A man in a hooded robe walked over to a table and took two cups from a sideboard.

"How kind of you to offer.  I trust you have an interesting vintage in your cellar." Marguerite gave the appearance of complete unconcern as she tried to retrieve the situation before they were painted into a corner.  The man retrieved a small bottle from somewhere on his person and proceeded to fill the cups.  Two men in armour each picked up a cup.

"Oh, I think you find this very suitable."

"None for me, thanks, I'm trying to cut back."  Marguerite tried to turn her head away from the guardsman who pushed the cup to her lips.  Grabbing her roughly, his hand at her throat, he tilted her head back and poured the liquid down her throat as she coughed and sputtered.

Veronica was having more success in fending off the guardsman trying to force the drink on her.  The guard who had manhandled Marguerite now joined his fellow and together they were able to push the lip of the cup between Veronica's clenched teeth and she too unwillingly choked down the part of the contents of the cup.  The struggle had emptied about half the cup already.  Veronica was grateful for the lighter dose of the drug.  Especially since Tomas didn't seem to have noticed.

"Now my guests, you will dream of your place of refuge.  When you wake up you will look to me to provide what you need."  Tomas looked at the guards and smiled mockingly.  "Take them to our guest quarters."

***

Now, in the faint rays of dawn streaking into their cell, two women struggled to remember the last few days.

"We drank something…..I think."  Veronica's voice lacked conviction.

"There was a man."  Marguerite seemed more positive about that detail even though she was breathless.  "And gems."

"There usually is with you."  Veronica was starting to throw off the effects of the drug.

"A drug to make us dream."  Marguerite leaned her aching head against the wall, ignoring, as she usually did, Veronica's jibes.  She was still struggling to take a deep breath.

"I wonder what Challenger would think of it."  Veronica realized her head was pounding as well and rested her head in her hands.

"Probably drone on about its origin and the derivatives at great length."  

Veronica smiled despite the headache.  "We'll take him a sample."  Her confidence was returning.  She didn't always appreciate her housemate's humor or remarks, but she'd was coming to realize that she was good to have at your back in a fight.  _"Just keep her away from the gems."_

"Any ideas on how to get away?"  

"That's your department, Marguerite.  But at least they untied us."

***

With the dawn, the keep was stirring.  The women kept watch, but for hours no one approached their cell.  Both were suffering from the aftereffects of the drug.  The outward signs were apparent, their breathing was labored, both were pale.  Inwardly they each kept to themselves the emptiness left over from their chemically induced dreams.

"Do you think the boys will come after us?"  Veronica turned from the doorway.  Through the small barred window in the heavy wooden door, she tried to spy anyone approaching the cell.

"They weren't expecting us back until last night.  They might wait today to see if we were just delayed."

"Would Roxton wait that long?"  

Marguerite was surprised at the yearning that went through her at the thought of Roxton.  _"Just a residual of my dream."_  Out loud she said,  "He might if Ned and Challenger can reason with him.  They know that with the canvas it'll be a slower walk to the treehouse."

Veronica tried to suppress the longing at the mention of her home.  _"Like I told Ned once, it's my world.  It's only natural."_  Veronica went back to studying the corridor.  "I guess we better get out of here on our own.

****

Roxton's rapid pace kept conversation to a minimum.   Neither Challenger nor Malone had the energy for casual talk.   

"How close are we?"  Ned approached the hunter during one of their infrequent breaks.

"Just an hour or so away.  We're making good time."  Even though the trail was a couple of days old, Roxton was able to spot signs of the women's passage.  He easily identified Marguerite's print. The hunter told himself that meant nothing beyond the uniqueness of her print. The heeled boot was smaller than most of the booted prints he came across, the word delicate came to mind.  The cuts in the tread on the sole made it even more distinctive.   The trail was still leading towards the village.  There was no sign that they had started back.

Challenger had wandered over to some bushes a few feet away.  "I never expected to find this here.  It might prove very useful."  He was crouched down looking at a plant a couple of feet high, covered with bristly hairs.

"What is it, Professor?"  Ned was getting his journal out.

"It seems to be Symphytum officinale of the family Boraginaceae.  Commonly called comfrey."

"We don't have time for this, let's get a move on."  Roxton's impatience had grown.  His instincts were telling him something was terribly wrong.

"Summerlee would have been so intrigued to find it here.  It's more common in England and Scotland."

"What's it good ---"  Malone cut his question short when Roxton shot him a look.  "We should talk about it when we get back to the treehouse."  He turned to join Roxton so they could start out again.  

A few steps later Roxton turned, calling out,  "Come on, Challenger, you can have your botanical expedition another time.  Collect samples to your heart's content." It was only by this merest chance of turning that the hunter saw the attack.  With a shout, Roxton brought up his rifle crosswise to block the blow from the sword.  Shifting his weight quickly, he sent his attacker sprawling and brought the stock of his rifle down on the man's head.  

Malone dodged the blow intended for him.  As he circled feinting blows with his opponent.  Challenger approached quietly and dispatched the second attacker with a sharp blow from the butt of his handgun.  

"Thanks, Challenger."

Challenger touched the brim of his hat in acknowledgement.

"These jokers look familiar to you, George?"  Roxton gruffly asked as he rolled one of their unconscious assailants over with the barrel of his rifle.

"I can't say as they do."

The downed man stirred; his instinctive backing away halted by the rifle under his chin.

"Who are you?  And what do you want with us?"  The harshness of Roxton's manner had the man swallowing nervously.  He looked toward his fallen companion.  "He's no help to you.  Keep an eye on him, Malone."

"Do you think Veronica and Marguerite ran into these guys?"  Malone inquired without taking his attention from his charge.  The eyes of the attacker, that Roxton was questioning, widened at the question.

"Not much of a poker face."  Roxton was now furious.  His manner had become cold, quiet and absolutely deadly.  "He knows who they are.  And he's going to take us to where they are."

****

"Hey, you!"  The guard in the corridor turned at Veronica's shout.  "You've got to do something.  She's having trouble breathing."  

The guard looked in through the barred window and saw Marguerite collapsed on the floor.  Veronica having got his attention, hurried to the brunette's side.  She began chaffing her hands.

"Damn! Tomas will have my head if something's happened to her."  The guard fumbled with the keys.  The door yielded to his strength with a squeak.  As the guard entered he looked at Veronica.  "Back against the wall while I see to her."  With a careful eye he watched Veronica back up as he knelt by the woman on the floor.  His attention focused on the blonde; he never saw the fist that swung up and connected with his chin.  His head snapped back.  Dazed, he did see the foot covered in a tanned hide that caught him on the side of his head.  He didn't see anything after that.

Marguerite stood, rubbing her right hand.  "Damn, I nearly broke my wrist."

"Come on, let's get out of here."  Veronica was at the door looking to see if anyone noticed the missing guard.

Marguerite stooped to grab the keys from the unconscious guard and followed the blonde jungle girl.

***

The two captured guardsmen proved singularly unhelpful.  Whether it was a language barrier or fear of whomever they owed allegiance to, the male contingent of explorers couldn't be sure.  Roxton set a more brutal pace, anxious to find his companions.  

Their entrance into the village received as much attention from the inhabitants as Marguerite and Veronica's had, but there was more fear than excitement this time.  It looked to the villagers that Tomas' words were true.

Nateen approached the armed men, manfully trying to hide his fear.  He would not care if it was just himself, but he had his woman and child as well as the rest of the village to protect.  Kiera stood to the side.  He ordered her to keep silent.  His son sat by the side of the hut, happy to be outside for the first time in days.

Challenger appointed himself spokesman.  He smiled.  "Greetings, we're seeking our two companions."

Nateen shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.  His inability to communicate with them apparent.

Challenger tried various words and hand gestures to convey his meaning.

"Challenger, this is getting us nowhere."  At Roxton's impatient words Nateen's face gave away his recognition of the name.  Roxton stepped forward fed up with delays.  "You're going to tell us what happened to Marguerite and Veronica."  

Nateen stepped back in the face of the tall hunter's anger.  A small boy impeded Roxton's step toward him.  Nateen reached for the boy despite the danger. Then he realized he didn't need to fear for his son; the fierce man in front of him would never hurt a child.  Roxton looked down at the boy, who opened up his palm and revealed Marguerite's locket.  Roxton felt his heart stop.  He turned back to Nateen, who saw his death in those eyes.  Nateen met the hunter's gaze steadily.  He was grateful that this tall stranger would not take out his anger on his son.

"Where the hell is she?"  

"Roxton, stay calm, we'll find out where they are."  Challenger tried to interpose himself between the two men without success.  Malone looked on unable to interfere without dropping his guard on their captives.

"Stay back, George!"  The hunter's rifle was raised to deliver a blow.

Once again someone came between Roxton and Nateen.  Kiera had started forward after her son.  Upon hearing Roxton's name she made her decision.

"Roxton, Marguerite, Veronica, taken."  Kiera saw the hunter glance at her hopefully.  She touched her son's bandaged arm.  "Marguerite, Veronica, penicillin."  She unwrapped the bandage on her son's arm and they saw the stitches.

"It looks like Marguerite's handiwork."  Roxton looked closely at the boy's arm.  He had been the recipient of Marguerite's skill with a needle on more than one occasion.  He stared at Kiera.  "Taken?"

"Marguerite, Veronica, taken."  She pointed to the path out of the village.

"Let's get a move on!" Roxton began to lead his friends in the direction 

Nateen seeing that the strangers where only there to get their friends and had not harmed anyone, made a decision.  "Roxton."  The hunter looked at him.  Nateen took the locket from his son and placed it in the hunter's hand.  "Marguerite, Veronica, penicillin."  He looked at his son the beneficiary of the two women's care.  He then looked toward Tomas' keep.  "Taken."  It was a matter of honor for Nateen.  He turned to his people.  "Tomas has taken two who only helped us.  I will go with these strangers to free Veronica and Marguerite.  Are they any who will join me?"  Several of the hunters of the village nodded.  

As the explorers watched in surprise, several of men of grabbed spears and came and stood ready.  One of the captured guardsmen growled something at the villagers causing them to flinch. Roxton wheeled back on the guardsman, the muzzle of a Webley at his chin.  

"You'll want to keep your mouth shut."  

Seeing the pleased reaction of the villagers, Malone remarked, "I think we just recruited some help."

***

The two women cautiously made their way through the corridor leading to the cells.  A sound ahead had Veronica grabbing Marguerite's arm.  

Marguerite's surprised exclamation was cut short by the look on Veronica's face.  The two glanced hurriedly around for a place to hide.  They pushed back against a door.  It stayed firmly closed.  A glance confirmed it was empty.  The noise grew closer.  Marguerite used the keys she appropriated and unlocked the door.  Slipping into the cell they concealed themselves against a wall.  

Moments later the sound of several men marching in the corridor caused the two women to tense.  Their fears were confirmed as the shouts revealed the discovery of their old cell's new occupant.

***

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"  Malone looked at the stone keep in disbelief.

"I would venture to say that the structure is modeled on a medieval fortress.  Circa 14th century."  Challenger was enamoured of the building and its possibilities.  A pair of heavy wooden doors stood open.

"It doesn't look like they have many guards on the place."  Roxton studied the entrance.  "I wish we could find out from our friends what the routine is."

"What are we going to do with these two."  Malone motioned to their two captives.  They had gagged them after leaving the village to prevent them from sounding an alarm.

"I'm not sure if these people will want to take responsibility if we tie them up."  Challenger looked from the captives to the keep they were planning on invading.

Nateen studied Marguerite and Veronica's friends and realized their dilemma.  With the hilt of his knife he knocked out the two guardsmen.

For the first time Roxton gave him an appreciative look.  Nateen nodded in response and motioned toward the keep.  "Marguerite, Veronica."

"We're getting them back, my friend, don't doubt it."  Nateen didn't understand Roxton's words, but the sentiment was clear.  Roxton motioned for Nateen and the villagers to wait there.  Nateen and the villagers shifted impatiently, but nodded their agreement.  Roxton shrugged off his pack.  He didn't want the extra weight slowing him down.

"Shall we go?"  

***

"At least we haven't been found yet."  Veronica kept her voice down as she tried to listen to the sounds of the guards searching.

"Hiding in a cell is not my idea of a getaway."  Marguerite fretted; the larger dose of the drug she'd ingested kept her queasy. 

"I'd rather not be here either, Marguerite."

The two women sat silent for a moment.

"What did you dream of, Veronica?"  Marguerite didn't examine her motives for asking.

"The treehouse."

"Makes sense, that's been your refuge."  The word caused both women to gather their strength to battle the longing that shot through them.

"I take it you dreamt of jewels?  It's what you always sought."

Marguerite gave a half smile, noncommittally.  She didn't want to reveal that her thoughts were of a person.

"Keep telling yourself, Marguerite, that he won't give you what you want."  Veronica could see the drug had a greater hold on her companion.

"It's okay, Veronica, I know he's not for real." 

Marguerite slipped over to the door to see if she could determine their next move.  Neither woman was at her best.  Marguerite considered their options.

"Look, maybe you should make a break for it."  Marguerite hated the idea of being on her own, but facing hard truths was something she could do.  "The way I'm feeling, I'd never outrun them.  You might."

"And what about you?"  Veronica was suspicious of the linguist's offer.

"You know the jungle; you can find the men.  By this time they should have come after us."  The thought of Roxton being out there made Marguerite pause to regain her composure.  _"Steady, Marguerite, don't let the drug color your thinking."_  "When you find them, you can come back for me and we can all head back home."

Now Veronica had to hold herself in check.  The urge to run for the treehouse was overwhelming.

"Veronica, you keep telling yourself, if you find Ned and Roxton, they'll help you get back to the treehouse."  Veronica nodded at the reminder.

Marguerite returned to the door.  "Let's see if we can find a good opportunity."

***

Just inside the doors in the anteroom, two guards stood in quiet conversation secure in the knowledge that no one would dare trespass.   Roxton and Malone quickly dispatched them.  A doorway to the side provided a convenient dumping ground.  The room was small; a robe was hanging to one side in what appeared to be a closet.

"Take the armour."  Challenger ordered, as he inspected the robe.

"Good idea.  We can pass unnoticed."  Malone began to strip one of the guards as Challenger slipped on the robes.

"We hope."  Roxton was not quite as sanguine about their chances.

Stripping off their shirts they put the tunics and armour chestplates.

"Why is it whenever Marguerite goes trading, we lose our shirts?"  Malone was adjusting the straps on the armour.

Despite the situation Roxton smiled, "Just a knack she has." 

"Give me your pack, Malone, I can hide it under the robe."  Challenger suggested.  

"Can you manage the guns, too?"  Roxton preferred someway to stay armed, but knew carrying the guns would be a dead giveaway.

"Everything but the rifle."

With a frown the hunter carefully stowed his rife in a corner. "We're definitely stopping before we leave.  Let's put these two in there and we can bar the door."  Roxton motioned towards the closet.

Ned and Roxton dragged the two men into the closet as Challenger found a suitable wedge for the door.

"Let's go find our wandering friends."  Roxton pulled the helmet onto his head, as Malone copied his actions.

****

"The corridor seems empty."  Marguerite opened the door.  The corridor was a dead end in one direction.  Going the other way they took it to a crossing corridor.  Veronica was moving easily a few yards ahead.  Marguerite was slowed by the drugs still in her system.

"Judging by the movement of the air, I think this direction leads out."  Veronica turned into the passageway on the right, alert for signs of search parties.

Still in the intersection of the halls, Marguerite spied several guards heading their way from the corridor straight ahead.

"Go!"  Knowing they saw her, Marguerite darted to the hallway on the left.

Veronica hesitated briefly then continued on.  She ducked into an alcove as she heard the men shouting.  With only Marguerite visible, the men took the bait.

Cautiously, Veronica slipped from the dim passages to better-lit ones.  She was moving slower now, taking care that she wasn't seen.  She slipped into a room and into the arms of a guard who promptly clapped a hand over her mouth.  Her instinctive move to flip her assailant was stopped by the larger guard.  The one holding her spoke softly.  "Easy, Veronica, it's us."

Veronica paused unsure if she could believe her senses.  "Ned?"  The uncertainity in her voice was apparent.  The three men in the room looked at her closely.  Challenger, unnoticed by her before this, threw back the hood of his robe.  

"Are you all right, Veronica.  You look awfully pale."

"We've been drugged.  We need to go to the treehouse."

"Where's Marguerite?"  Roxton couldn't wait any longer.

"What does the drug do?"  Challenger asked as he looked closely at the jungle girl's pupils and took her pulse.

"It makes you want whatever gives you safety.  I have to get to the treehouse.  Tomas uses it, and makes you think he can supply what you want the most.  Let's go now."

"Who is Tomas?"  Challenger tried to get Veronica to focus.  She gave the men a brief explanation of Tomas' feudal relationship with the villagers. That seemed to help her calm down.

"Where's Marguerite?"  Roxton persisted.

"We split up, the guards were chasing her."

"Do you know if she got away?"  Challenger signaled to Ned to get some water.

"I don't think so.  She wasn't moving very well.  The drug."

"We need to go after her."  Roxton was growing more impatient.

"We need a plan, Roxton."  Challenger tried to temper his friend's anxiety.

"Where will they take her?"  Malone handed the water to Veronica.

"To Tomas, there's a main hall.  When can we go back to the treehouse?"

"We'll get you back to the treehouse."  Malone assured her.  He looked at Roxton.  "We'll just collect Marguerite first."  Veronica smiled.  Roxton nodded.

"What did Tomas want with you two?"

"He was going to sell me back to Dirkon."  Ned's face tightened at her words.  "He wanted Marguerite for himself."

"Apparently he has a death wish."  Roxton strode to the doorway to see if the coast was clear.

"I'll say.  If Marguerite doesn't kill him, Roxton will."  Ned kept his voice down so only Veronica heard him.

"We need to find a way to let Marguerite know we're here."  Challenger began to prepare to leave

"Why?"  Veronica tried to guess what the scientist was up to.

"That way she'll be ready to make a move."  Roxton rejoined them.  "It's clear."

"I think I know what we can do."  Malone said with some self-satisfaction.

***

Marguerite was marched into the great hall between two guards, another led the way, and a fourth followed.  Her mind tried to turn the thin figure in the hall, into a tall, broad shouldered man.  She painfully forced the image away.

Tomas was there.  "Ah, my dear Marguerite, tried to take a stroll did you?"  

"I just couldn't stay away."  Marguerite was at her most sophisticated.  Acting as if she didn't have a care in the world, she glanced casually about the room.  A familiar object caught her eyes on a side table.  A book.  _"It can't be."_ She sought to temper her soaring hopes._ "With my luck it's the plateau version of the Kama Sutra, and that son of a bitch wants to do a book review with me."_  Carelessly she strolled about the hall.  

Tomas waved the guards back allowing her more freedom of movement.  "It seems as if you're finally learning who can help you."

"I always had a pretty good idea about that."  Marguerite could make flirtatious small talk at a moment's notice.  With an air of indifference she glanced down and struggled to hide her smile.  _"Malone's journal.  Where are they?"_  She stepped away before her actions attracted Tomas' attentions.

"Where did your friend go?"

"She just wanted to get a bit of air."  That little snide remark earned her a sidelong look from Tomas.

"Now, my sweet, I think you need another cup of the beverage, my alchemist has prepared."  The hooded man stood by the table.

"Oh that's not really necessary.  I'm not the least bit thirsty."  Marguerite tried to brush off the offer.  _"Roxton, where the hell are you?"_   The sight of Malone's journal had reawakened the craving for the hunter's presence.

"After you drink, I'd like to show you some gems."  Tomas was sure that he had the right bait.  The jungle girl had given him the clue to deal with the dark haired beauty.  But just in case, he signaled to his guard to move in on Marguerite.

"How can I resist that."  Marguerite caught the movement of the guard and knew she had to stall in some other way.  She sauntered towards the table where alchemist stood waiting.

The doors to the hall opened.  Two guards dragged in Veronica, one on either side.  Her hands were behind her back as if bound.

"Oh!"  Marguerite's first exclamation of dismay was lost as she focused on the two guards accompanying Veronica.  "John." His name was little more than a breath. Her instinctive movement towards him was aborted when she recognized the low spoken voice of another of her companions behind her. 

"Steady, Marguerite.  Play it out."  

With a lingering look at the taller of the guards at Veronica's side, she used all her willpower not to run to the safety of his arms and turned back to Challenger.  She saw him nod at the cup and wink.  She looked at Tomas.  It wouldn't do to be too eager.  Reluctantly she picked up the cup and with a grimace for the feudal lord's benefit, drank.  Using the cover provided by his robes, Challenger slipped Marguerite one of Roxton's Webleys.  Drawing comfort from one of the hunter's prized possessions, she concealed it in the folds of her skirt.  Marguerite took a couple of steps toward Tomas, gasped for air and grabbed his hands with one outstretched hand as if to maintain her balance.  

Tomas' guards moved forward.  Suddenly Roxton, Malone and Veronica where in their midst and it was a melee.  Challenger threw off his robes and joined the fight.  

Tomas realized then that Marguerite was not really in distress.  With the hand holding the Webley, Marguerite struck him on the side of the head, causing him to stumble.  Unfortunately she still hadn't recovered all her strength from being drugged.  Tomas turned on her.  From his belt he drew a knife.  He lunged toward Marguerite.  A hand reached out and grabbed his wrist, twisting it, behind him.  

"I think it's time to end this."  Roxton's deep voice was music to Marguerite's ears as the tall hunter held Tomas prisoner.

From beyond the doors in the hallway the sounds of fighting were heard.  Unable to wait any longer, Nateen and his villagers were lending a hand.

***

Roxton wasn't sure what to make of the situation.  He could tell both of their housemates were still suffering from the drugs Tomas used.  Challenger had analyzed the compound and said it would be better to let it wear off.  

"Any additional drugs would just cause more stress on your systems."  Challenger had looked over Marguerite and Veronica once more.  "What you were given should wear off in a day or two."

Tomas had agreed to allow the villagers contact with others, allowing them to learn other tribes' languages.  His guard force was not sufficiently large to overcome a determined resistance among all the villages that owed him allegiance.

Tomas tried to induce Marguerite into staying.  "Remember those gems, Marguerite."

Surprising Roxton, Marguerite simply said.  "Sometimes it's not worth the price."  She had been hanging on to his arm.  Actually she had done that a number of times.  Since she was unsteady on her feet he hadn't thought much of it at first.  Now he remembered how she looked to him when he entered.  He saw his name on her lips.   Her head started to rest against his arm.  As she had done several times.  She started suddenly, pulling back as she realized what she was doing.

Nateen approached them and spoke.  There was a satisfaction in his eyes.

"Chief Nateen has offered us a place to stay for the night."  Marguerite translated as Challenger joined them.

"Tell him we accept.  You're in no condition to hike, particularly carrying that canvas."  Roxton said the last with a smirk.

"You're all heart, Roxton."  Marguerite turned back to convey their acceptance to Nateen.

"We going to head back tonight."  Ned said as he and Veronica drew near.  "Veronica needs to be at the treehouse.  If we don't have anything to haul, we can travel fairly fast and we should be able to make reasonably good time."

"Great, that leaves the three of us to handle the canvas."  Marguerite said ironically as Ned and Veronica left.

"We'll be fine."  Challenger said bracingly as he turned away.

"Well, if they don't help with the canvas, they're doing the cooking for a week."  Marguerite decided firmly.

"There's still one thing, I don't understand."

"Only one, Lord Roxton?"  Marguerite mocked, however her hand was back, griping his arm.

"Veronica has been focused on the treehouse since we came across her."

"Naturally, the drugs did that."

"But even though you had about double the amount Veronica had of the drug, you haven't paid any attention at all to the gems Tomas has, or talked about your own."  Roxton looked down at her hand on his arm, his suspicions aroused.  He tried to tell himself that it was just wishful thinking that gems hadn't been her desire.

Marguerite dropped her grip again.  "What can I say, just sheer determination."

In their continuing game of one-upsmanship it should have been tempting to mock her apparent need for him, but a look at her shadowed eyes chased the thought away.  "I was just going to say, that if you need to lean on someone until this drug wears off, I'm here."

"It's not necessary."  Marguerite pulled her hand back, as it was about to reach for him again.

Roxton reached out and smoothed her hair.  "I know it's just the drug, it wouldn't have to mean anything."  He was surprised at how wistful he felt.  _"It's because she's not really up to sparring with me.  When she's better we can fight."_  He put his arm about her waist and had her leaning against him.  He smiled at thought of her being well enough to match wits with him soon.

The feel of his arm around her and the comfort of his body against her side had her exhaling in relief.  She relaxed against him knowing that in his strength she found her refuge.  

For reasons he wouldn't examine he now felt whole.  He glanced down at dark curly head leaning against his shoulder.  "Come on, let's see if we can get back to Nateen's village.  You can check on your patient.  I got this from him."  He held out the locket.  

**Epilogue**

The trek back to the village seemed longer to Marguerite than she remembered.  The side effects of the drug forced on her by Tomas left her drained.  The villagers had gone on ahead, anxious to let their families know they were safe.  She had done her best to relieve Nateen's guilt feelings.  She wasn't sure if it was true concern for her or fear of Roxton that was the cause of his nervousness.  He kept shooting glances back at the tall hunter. Roxton had kept her by his side, apparently aware of some of the nuances of the drug that Marguerite would have preferred to he not know.

"We'll see how you feel in the morning before we attempt the trip back to the treehouse, Marguerite."  Challenger had noticed her continued pallor.  They paused to take a breather.  

Roxton aided Marguerite in sitting down on a fallen log.  "I'm going to fill our canteens."  Marguerite realized she was still gripping his arm and let go.  He took her hand and squeezed it.  His smile was reassuring.  She summoned up a smile and a nod for him.

"Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on her."  Challenger kept his voice low as the hunter crossed past him.  "It's good that you're giving her some help.  I think she's really exhausted from her experience."

"I should have rammed that knife into Tomas."  Roxton spoke with uncommon viciousness.

"Easy, Roxton, that wouldn't have solved anything.  We just have to go a little easy on Marguerite for the next day or so.  It is odd that she hasn't mentioned anything about gems.  Veronica couldn't stop fretting about getting back to the treehouse.  I wonder if there is something else troubling her?"

"I'll take care of her."  Seeing Challenger startled by the abrupt statement, the hunter tried for a strategic retreat.  "I'd best get that water."

When Roxton returned, he bent over to help Marguerite stand.  "Say something about gems."  His voice was soft and his eyes darted over to where Challenger stood waiting.

"When we do get back I need to sort through all my stones, make sure they're safe."  Marguerite tried to sound anxious.

"You'll get a chance to do just that."  Challenger turned and was reassuring.

"In the meantime, remember, I told you they were safe, just hang on to me.  I'll get you back to them."  Roxton decided to give Challenger a reason for Marguerite staying at his side.

***

The villagers turned out to greet the returning explorers.  Kiera and her son came forward.

"Did he give it back to you?"  The boy looked at Roxton and then Marguerite.

Marguerite crouched down and touched her locket to show him.  "Yes, he did.  Thank you for keeping it safe.  Now, how is your arm, young man?" 

He proudly unwrapped his bandage.  "What will it look like when it heals?"

Marguerite turned to the hunter.  "Roxton, roll up your sleeve."  She touched the arm that Veronica had sliced with a knife when defending the imposter Tom Layton.

"Why, Marguerite, I'm always happy to let you see more of me.  I just prefer a more private place."  The seduction in his voice was more playful than serious.

Marguerite was amused and didn't hesitate to tease back. "The boy wants to compare scars.  That kind of manly activity ought to be right up your alley."  Marguerite turned to her young patient.  "This is a cut Lord Roxton had.  Yours will look like that when it heals."  She touched the boy's arm lightly, then stroked the scar on the hunter's arm.  His body tightened at her touch  Their eyes met and she had a hard time catching her breath.  Their awareness of each other threatened to overwhelm them.

Marguerite was brought back to an awareness of her surroundings by the boy tugging at her arm.  "Will my arms look like that?"  

Marguerite, amused at the hero worship evident in her former patient, smiled.  "I believe they might."

"My mother gave my arm a kiss to help it heal, will you?"  Aware of Roxton watching her every move Marguerite was tempted to pull back from the boy, but the boy's hopeful look was her undoing.

Leaning down she pressed her lips lightly to the healing cut.  

"I seemed to have missed that part of the treatment."  Roxton's voice was deep and challenging.  

"Should I remedy that Lord Roxton?"  Marguerite picked up the gauntlet he had thrown.  With a half smile and a tilt of his head, Roxton held her eyes.  Slowly she pressed her lips to the scar, moving them slightly.  

Roxton cursed his impetuous action as he responded involuntarily to her touch.  Still unwilling to concede the game he responded.  "I have other scars."  He touched his side where the other, more serious wound had been inflicted by Veronica.  He was rewarded by Marguerite's intake of breath.  He had the satisfaction of knowing she was not unaffected by their teasing.

Still aware of the others around them, Marguerite managed a lighthearted comeback.  "One to a customer, Roxton."

Kiera smiled, seeing the undercurrents between the two strangers.  "You look tired, Marguerite, let me show you where you can sleep."

***

Challenger was tired and sore from the day's activities, including the unrelenting pace that Roxton had set.  His snoring filled the hut.

The two other pallets in the hut were set a discrete distance apart from each other.  The hunter heard Marguerite shifting restlessly.  He had struggled to keep some space between them.  He knew the way she was feeling, she'd give in to his persuasions.  He also knew that it wouldn't be fair to take advantage of her.  The awareness of her proximately kept him on edge.  

They usually slept side by side on the trail.  He liked to keep her close in uncertain circumstances.  And in the world that Malone had dubbed Lost, most circumstances were uncertain.  He suspected that she felt more comfortable when he was nearby as well.  Neither one of them said anything about it, but they both gravitated toward each other at night.

"Marguerite, are you all right?"

The linguist started, unaware that he was still awake.  "Yes, Roxton, I'm fine."  She thought she managed not to betray her tears.  His nearness and the need to stay apart was straining her control.  

Roxton had realized that he was the focus of the linguist's obsession when they were still at Tomas' keep.  He knew what he had to do and he knew it would strain his self-control.

Marguerite heard the scrape on the floor.  "Roxton?"

"Right here, Marguerite."  His voice was near her ear.  His arm was slipping under her neck.

"What are you doing?"  She was wiping her tears, hoping he wouldn't notice.

"I think you can figure it out."  His other arm came around her and pulled her against his chest.  "We've both had a rough couple of days.  We need some sleep."

"But –" 

"I told you, Marguerite, I know it's the drug."  The pain of that admission was evident to both.  "Not to worry.  Now sleep."

As she drifted off, she was aware of the comfort, the warmth, her back nestled against his chest, the weight of his arm draped across her waist, holding her firmly, protectively against him.  She gave into the temptation to snuggle in, accept the refuge offered by his arms.  His arms tightened.  She found herself murmuring his name, "John."   Lips pressed against her temple and she heard the sound of her name.  "Marguerite."     An odd feeling, one of safety, filled her.  A restful sleep claimed her and him.   

**_finis_**

**Author's Notes:  **  
The setting is just a few episodes away from Outlaw, I thought that Marguerite and Roxton could use some help softening towards each other.  They're not ready to admit anything, but they are looking to each other.

My apologies to Scottish bacteriologist Alexander Fleming at St. Mary's Hospital, London, who in 1922 originally discovered penicillin, for appropriating his discovery.

Lastly I took liberties with the treatment of the young boy in the village.  His wound should not have been stitched up.  But one must take into account neither Marguerite and Veronica are medical professionals, so they might not have known.

**References:**

Details on the herb comfrey can be found at 

**Episode notes:**  
In Absolute Power, Dirkon specifically came to capture Veronica and was fought off when Marguerite and Roxton joined the battle.

In Resurrection, Marguerite is captured and about to be sacrificed.  Roxton makes a deal with Osric to save his life and hers.  Later his guilt is assuaged by Marguerite's faith in him.

In Prophecy, Kaysan tries to get Marguerite to kill Roxton, to tie her close to the band of outlaws.

In Amazons, the men's late return prompts Veronica's worry and she and Marguerite set out to look for them.

In Tourist Season, palm fronds were used for the windmill vanes.  

In The Source, Ned was quite taken with Ana Pisaro, the beautiful four-hundred year old member of an expedition to find Ponce de Leon's Fountain of Youth.

In Voodoo Queen, Roxton told Challenger he would keep the voodoo doll with Marguerite's ring.  We never saw him take it, but he must have in the village after he became aware of Danielle's perfidy.  Also he didn't return the others' items, at least that we saw.  

In The Guardian we saw that they used canvas and were re-constructing the windmill.  Also the opening of this episode saw Challenger with Veronica and Marguerite collecting herbs.


End file.
